


Magisterial

by DABDA



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Contains Latin, F/M, My First Fanfic, Pretty sweary, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DABDA/pseuds/DABDA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuesday, 2.30. Latin with Mr H.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Periculum

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first fic, but my first written down! Hope somebody enjoys. Chapters 2 and 3 are ready to go.

Tuesday, 2.30. Latin with Mr H. There were only 4 of them in the A2 class. Except today, two of her classmates were on a French trip to a chilly, misty Paris. And this morning, Danielle had phoned in sick.

She'd had 5-and-a-half hours to think what to do, and she still didn't know.

~~~

Tuesday, 2.30. A2 Latin. It would be unfair to say this was why he'd got into teaching, but it was certainly the icing on the cake. 3 girls, 1 boy, all bright and mature and wanting to be there and wanting to learning. The time always flew by.

Today though, just one girl walked in. And instead of saying good afternoon and sitting at the front, she kept walking to the back of the classroom, and when she reached it, silently turned to face him.

He laughed reflexively, pinched the end of his tie. "What are you doing there?"

“Veni videque”.

_Come and see._

He took a few steps towards her, then stopped abruptly. She didn't look like she was joking or teasing. She didn't even look coquettish. She looked nervous, serious’ vulnerable but confident.

The reason inserted itself immediately into his mind. He knew what she wanted; it seemed he had known it for some time.

He didn't know what he wanted.

He mentally felt for the biting point where his professionalism and training were supposed to kick in. He couldn't find it.

He stared at her. "I..."

He swallowed and forced himself. "I can't."

She blinked faster but otherwise her expression remained unchanged.

"You know I can't."

Her lips pressed together and her head dropped. She seemed to watch her foot swinging.

_Oh Christ. What do I say now? Do I just start the lesson or..._

She looked up again and addressed him evenly.

"I'm 18. I go to the pub, and clubs and stuff. If you met me there, what would you do?"

A tumble of images came unsolicited into his head. _The magnetic young woman, who, once spotted, makes the rest of the room fade to black. The seized moment at the bar. The amused, appraising look in her eye as she dances with him. The hand on her waist. The low-traffic corner where their mouths push against each other. His hand sliding up her skirt in the taxi. The sounds she makes as they fall onto the bed. The arch of her back as she moves on top of him..._

He gasped and gaped, powerless to stop the arousal coursing through his body. She watched him.

_Her hands pressing down onto his chest, his hands pressing up onto her breasts..._

"I..."

_Rocking together. Coming together._

"You..."

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"You know I can't," he stammered out again. He flinched away from her gaze, fixed his eyes on a desk in the corner, burned with shame and lust and surprise.

She exhaled hard. Looked down, then over to the same desk.

"I know you can't." Another exhale. "But I had to be sure."

She walked towards him suddenly and his imagination leapt again. _She walked up to me, turned my face gently towards her and kissed me. I didn't even have chance to resist, what was I supposed to..._

But she didn't. She stepped sideways through the line of desks and he heard her head straight out of the door behind him.

He stared and stared at that desk until he realised his legs were numb and he collapsed into the nearest seat.

He stared and stared at his hands.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._


	2. 2. Resistenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty angst.

_I'm such a fucking cliché._

When he went to do his teaching qualification, his friends had teased him. Watch out for those sixth-form girls. Or, Christ, I could never do your job, all those short skirts, I'd be in prison by the end of the first term.

_Be in prison._ It made the blood drain from his face. Because he'd lost control. It should be easy to just tell himself, in loco fucking parentis and that's the end of that. But it wasn't working, and if she tried it again... If she tried it again...

_He struggled fruitlessly to stop the by-now familiar cascade of images tumbling through his head. He hadn’t stopped. He’d walked up to her and pressed the length of his body against hers, pressed her up against the drawing pins and the sun-bleached Ecce Romani poster. ‘Are you sure?’ he’d murmured. She had nodded, demure but excited. Then he’d kissed her, hard, possessive, their shallow breaths mingling over sliding tongues, one hand at the back of her head, one lifting her thigh onto his hip, pushing aside fabric to cup her behind._

_She’d broken away, pulled up smoothly with leg and arm to wrap herself around his waist, started tracing a hot little tongue up his neck to his earlobe so that he could not suppress a moan as he secured her back against the corkboard. ‘Shhh’, she had smiled, and returned her mouth to his. They had stayed locked together, kissing and gasping, and kissing a little less and gasping a little more as he rubbed the bulge in his trousers more insistently against her knickers._

And then what? Then someone finds you, you fool, and you’re in all the papers, and the screws and the lags compete to see who despises you more, and not even your mother comes to your funeral when you drink yourself to death.

_And then, as happens in fantasy, all unwanted clothing vanished and he carried her a couple of steps to a chair and lowered them into it and she anticipated his move and angled her hips and lowered herself onto him at the same moment and kept their eyes locked as she began to slide her hot, slick pussy down his shaft and his synapses fried with pleasure..._

He surfaced from under the bathwater, heaving breaths through tingling lips.

_Jesus fuck. Jesus fuck._

He stared down at the familiar sight of his hard-on, begging for relief. He couldn't allow him to do what should come naturally, because however careful he was to distract himself with porn or well-trod memories, in the moment of climax, there she would be, and then it would be official, he'd be a pervert.

God, it hurt though. He lay back in the bath and prayed that tonight he would come in his sleep, but not remember the dream in the morning.

Tomorrow was Tuesday again, and the last lesson before they scattered for study leave and exams. _45 minutes more pretending she doesn’t exist, and then this is all over._

_Yeah right._


	3. 3. Licentia

She made sure he knew she was leaving. The last 4 months had been a dance of proprioception; always aware of one another's position, stance, direction of gaze, but only through peripheral vision. Since that day in February their eyes had barely met, not in assembly, not in the corridor, only in lessons when not doing so would have been more obvious than avoiding it.

But now they did.

She had carefully detached herself from friends and small-talkers. He, more unconsciously, had done the same.

Her stare was cool, direct, unambiguous. He counted to 3, then followed her out of the west door.

When she reached the side gate, she paused, turned. Though her blood was running fast for another reason, she had enough care to know this was supposed to be something important, and a once-in-a-lifetime liminal moment. So she paused, turned, thought very loudly, _Goodbye, school. Thanks and good riddance._

And much, much more to the point, he was walking slowly up the side of the science block. The look on his face was too much to bear. She turned and pushed out of the gate, started left up the road. A few seconds later she heard the gate click, creak, click once more. Her lips prickled. She didn't need to look back again until...

Until where? She walked fast, enjoying the summer breeze, the freedom, the victory, as she worked out where to tow him. Not too close, not too public, or public but busy... Ha. Yes.

So he followed. The guilty, self-admonishing part of his brain continued to clamour, but today it had no power. He even told himself consciously, _I should stop. This is a bad idea_ , and his eyes stayed on the pale blue dress and his feet continued to move, so no, nothing seemed to have any power any more except her.Gradually, as they walked, a euphoria began to wash over him. All the days, and Christ! All those nights of cramming down his craving and now not only could he stop, apparently he had no choice in the matter.

He realised he could just look at her, without wrenching his gaze away. He let himself enjoy the shape of her ankles above her black wedge sandals. He let himself enjoy the way her hips moved, just a little side-to-side, as she walked. He let himself be thrilled when she scooped her hair up for a few seconds, to feel the air on the back of her neck. He let himself anticipate the glimmer of her lips when she turned her head to check before crossing the road. He started to smile.

She made her way as was her wont, walking with deliberate strides, nipping across empty roads instead of standing awkwardly at crossings. In less than 10 minutes she arrived at a small park. At this time in the afternoon there was just a smattering of pre-school children, trying to deflect jets of the fountain onto each other. She sat down and watched them, skin tingling with the warmth from outside and in.

He approached. _What now?_

He gestured beside her. "May I?"

She looked up at him with - what? - mischief? Affection? Pleasure, perhaps. "Of course". Her gaze returned to the fountain and they sat in silence for some moments.

His tension began to dissipate in the sunlight. Eventually he murmured, "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

She grinned straight ahead, raised an eyebrow slightly. "It's the best."

He leaned forward. "I'm Tom, by the way."

She turned. "Pleased to meet you."


End file.
